


Mask.

by misslucyfierce



Category: Mayans M.C. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:07:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25506433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslucyfierce/pseuds/misslucyfierce
Summary: This was a request for my 300 Follower Celebration on Tumblr. The chosen phrases were "I can't believe you're back here!" and "What do you mean ‘maybe’? It was a yes or no question!"
Relationships: Angel Reyes/Reader
Kudos: 7





	Mask.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request for my 300 Follower Celebration on Tumblr. The chosen phrases were "I can't believe you're back here!" and "What do you mean ‘maybe’? It was a yes or no question!"

You sank lower into the tub - water rushing over your swelled belly as your muscles gave way, sinking your tired body into steaming water. You audibly moaned when you finally relaxed - arms going slack against the cool tile of the tub. Bedtime without Angel left you weary. Between two jobs, two kids, and one on the way, you never felt rested - exhaustion becoming your permanent mask. 

The soapy loofa felt rough against your soft skin as you drew bubbled stripes on your arms - studying your dulled skin - years of desperation, not youth aged you. Instead of college and football games, you took one online class a semester and managed to take your kids to the park once a week. 

You slid further into the tub - your legs awkwardly bending to accommodate your frame. The MC left you a widow. Angel spending more time in the comfort his brothers than his home. How many times had you pleaded your case before you just stop begging? 

The heavy footsteps echoing through the silent hall made you sit, water splashing against the tub, rushing over the edge as you listened for his distance. 

“-----?” His voice echoed in the bathroom as his frame shadowing the doorway. Your thoughts silenced as his eyes raked over your slick body. “Need help, mami?” His eyes were mournful as he stared at you - the intimacy forcing you to turn away. 

“Grab my towel.” Your words fell flat as you took Angel’s extended hand, letting him pull you to your feet. Your hands jerked the towel from his broad shoulder - hastily wrapping the towel around your dripping body. 

“I can’t believe you’re back here.” You spat out the words as his eyes raked you over - his hand sliding over your belly, palming its curve over your towel. You swallowed thickly - the desire to pull him close forced back down as you swatted his hand away. “You can’t just show up - especially in the middle of the night.” Your hushed tone was dipped in annoyance as he followed dutifully to the bedroom. 

Angel’s eyes grew wide as he waited in the doorway of your once shared room. You had painted - a cool gray bringing peace to the room. The dresser was a soft pink - faux diamond pulls reflecting small rainbows across the carpet. The room felt like you. He felt days of exhaustion rush over him - his muscles suddenly weak as he sank on the bed, knees bent as he laid back inhaling your scent. 

“Angel, what the fuck are you doing?” You emerged from the closet dressed in his old shirt - your belly peeking from under the stretched fabric. “I am serious. You can’t show up.” You sought the upperhand - commanding the conversation from a distance. 

He sat up, his fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose as he leaned forward - his shoulders crumbling under the weight of his reality. “I know, amor, but I miss you. I miss our family.” His gaze fell on the floor, but his words gripped your heart - squeezing the breath from you as your resolve cracked. Your teeth rolled your bottom lip - pulling at the skin as you studied him. 

“Angel. I need distance.” Your plea stayed the same. You had asked for three months - three months of him sleeping at Felipe’s and the clubhouse and scheduling visits with the kids, three months of sleeping alone, and three months for your hate to fade, and resentment form in its place. 

“Distance? Querida, this isn’t enough distance for you!?,” Angel questioned - his shaky voice betraying his false resolve. “Do you even want to be with me? Are you even going to want me back after this?” His gaze piercing your already battered heart. 

Your shrug answered for you. 

“Maybe.” You exhale was audible as your hands slid over your belly - rubbing the anxiety away as Angel stalked towards you. 

“What do you mean ‘maybe’? It was a yes or no question!” The quiet of the night amplified his voice as he before you - anger breaking through his mask of heartbreak. “Now, you’re being crazy! I’ve tried to give you space, let you cool off, but this is ridiculous.” He pointed sharply through the air as he spat out his true feelings - the mask slipping off. 

Your lips pursed together, refusing to let your mouth fall to the floor. Angel closed the distance between you - taking advantage of the aftershock. His hands slid over your full hips, pulling you flush against him - his cologne burnt your nose - the sting of too many memories. 

“Mami. You’re my world.” His fingers threaded through your hair - his fingertips raking against your sensitive scalp. “This is my world.” His free hand slid over your belly. His cool rings melting into your warm skin as he held you softly. You stood still - paralyzed by his assault, your physical resolve weakened after weeks apart. 

Your breath quickened as his fingers moved lower. His hand sliding over your wet panties, “This is my world.” He rocked his hand against you. Your eyes close, your forehead falling to his shoulder, as you inhaled - sucking in courage as you pushed yourself away. 

Your body felt warm under his stony gaze as you stood straighter - impassivity washing over your face. “Angel,” You licked your lips, rolling your bottom lip in extended thought, “I think I’ve changed my mind.”


End file.
